the individual tongues of kingdom's slaves have been hushed in the humming dust of their market.the mud which was building the tower—the currency of their thoughts' master—hollowed out under the sun.the tower became the built abyss; the maze which veiled from builders' eyes the sky once they challenged it.an earthquake will complete the end of this guile; a snort of earth, whose chest is buried by the burden of this filth.amen,amen.